Once upon a time, Once upon a time
by TapTim
Summary: To witness the death of a close friend; your heart shreds. To see him alive again; your brain is confused. To lose sight of reality; your soul wavers. To have to fix the torn reality; your body breaks. (Vague to avoid extreme spoilerage. ;) )


_**A/N: Sup, dudes? I've finally grown the guts to publish some Fullmetal Alchemist fanfic. Boo. Yah. However, fair warning: This hasn't been completed. I have big plans for this story, but my writing happens in spurts, when Jack (my Muse) gets the bug, so I can't say if or when it'll get updated. I had the urge to publish something though, so I thought I'd go ahead, so it'd quit taunting me from my WIP folder. :P Cheers!**_

(P.S. I started a blog! Yaaaaay. Go to the bottom of my profile page for the link, if you so desire.)

_**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Rights belong to Hiromu Arakawa, The Genius!**_

* * *

He was lost within the layers of a positively wonderful dream. It wasn't weird or morbid as his dreams sometimes tended to be, but was warm, soothing and made perfect sense. He could literally feel the sunshine caressing his skin and the wind on his face and arms whispering past as his legs propelled him forward in a carefree run. His body felt light, like he could push off with his bare feet from the soft, grassy hill and soar into the sky. And the best part, he turned and called over his shoulder at his little brother, his Alphonse, urging him to hurry up, hurry home because mom was calling them in for stew. Alphonse grinned, a beautiful smile of pearly teeth and pink lips. A pure, blissful laugh burst from Edward, and he ran harder, encouraging his little brother to try to beat him to the front porch. He could see their mother waving at them from the front porch, her long strands of auburn hair floating gently in the breeze. Absolutely nothing was wrong. If only this dream would never end...

_Thud..._

A peal of booming thunder rattled his magical world. Startled, he lost his footing and face-planted headlong into the grass. _The heck? Is it going to rain on a day this bright? _He pushed himself up, spitting dirt, and turned to face the sky. Not a cloud in sight.

_Thud thud..._

The sound wasn't just coming from the sky.

_Thud..._

It was everywhere! Coming from beneath him, both sides, above... What was going on? He rubbed at his eyes when they began to play tricks on him. The once perfect image before him was beginning to morph. Alphonse reaching out his short, stubby fingers to help him up fizzled away, melting into the air. The greens of the ground blended with blues of the sky. Smearing together. Turning completely black...

_THUD..._

"Wah!" Edward bolted from the desk, clutching the edge for dear life. His mind struggled to grasp the situation and where he was. He blinked several times. The first thing he noticed was how bright it was. Out the window, the sun was high in the sky; it probably sometime in the late morning.

"Brother?"

Alphonse. He felt a pang of sadness upon seeing the suit of armor peering at him, a bit of the dream fluttering past his mind's eye. With no small amount of effort he dismissed the beautiful illusion, choosing not to dwell on something that wasn't currently within the realms of possibility. His mood, however, was pretty well ruined. He dropped his gaze to the desk that had been serving as his pillow, cluttered with books and loose papers.

"What, Al?" Edward lifted his left hand to rub the sleep from an eye. Gah, he felt like crap, all clammy, hot, and sticky. His back and neck complained with a familiar soreness from the prolonged uncomfortable position and he stretched, trying to content his muscles. He relaxed, glancing at Alphonse. "Something the matter?"

"There's a piece of paper stuck to your face."

He suddenly felt it. It was low, beneath his eyes' perception. With a grimace he peeled it from his cheek. "Isn't that attractive." Alphonse giggled and Ed's spirits rose just a little. "How long have I been out?"

"Since last night... around midnight. You're a deep sleeper, Ed." Alphonse teased.

"That long? Al, why didn't you wake me up?" Then the sound returned.

_Thud thud thud..._

Edward scowled and jumped from his chair, eyes locking onto the cause of the noise. He thrust his pointer finger accusingly. "YOU!"

A lone repairman on a ladder froze, his hammer held high, and twisted around, blinking at Edward like a deer in the headlights. Do deer blink? That isn't important. The man motioned to himself with his hammer questioningly.

"Yeah, you!" Edward bellowed. "The heck you think you're doing? Part of the definition of 'library' is a _quiet_ place to read!" Or sleep...

The repairman shrugged apologetically, unfazed by Edward's abrasive mood. "Sorry, kid. I gotta fix this before it rains again." He pointed at the rough, half-patched gap in the ceiling where dark, menacing clouds could be seen rolling in through the skies above, obscuring the bright sunshine.

Edward growled lowly, moving around the desk to march right up to the wall next to the ladder. "Put the plank over the hole."

The repairman tilted his head, not entirely understanding. He held up a thick board under his arm. "This one?"

"Yeah, the one _not_ already nailed to the ceiling." He didn't mean to take out his bad mood on a guy who was only trying to do his job... but he didn't feel like tempering himself right now. Chalk it up to teenage mood swings.

Confused, and wondering what on earth that would accomplish, the man humored Ed and set the last board over the hole. He cocked his eyebrow, waiting halfheartedly.

With a sigh, Edward slapped his hands together and set his palms against the wall. Blue, crackling fingers of alchemy danced up to the ceiling, surrounding the entire patch job with its light.

"Whoa!" In his surprise, the repairman flinched and jerked his hand away, nearly dropping the board, but the alchemy had already claimed it. It seemed to melt into the wood around it, like a drop of water into a pond, rippling until it went still. The man stared wide-eyed as the alchemy fizzled away, leaving a slightly steaming, seamless ceiling in its wake. In awe, the man ran his hand over the perfectly smooth wood, jaw threatening to drop all the way to the floor.

Satisfied with his work, Edward crossed his arms. "If _that_ patch job doesn't get you a promotion, nothing will." He stormed back to his brother's side at the desk.

Alphonse was smirking at him. Not physically, but Edward knew that right now behind that helmet was the essence of a boy who _smirked_ in his direction. "I'm glad you're having such a good time." Ed retorted, turning to stack the papers.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to." Impatient and already tired of fooling with the papers, he flung them back down. "Can't we just reserve this desk? There are, like, fifteen others, and I doubt anyone would want to come to a library as small and rundown as this one."

"We did..."

"Yeah, well, it was _supposed_ to be quiet." Ed flashed an angry glance at the man on the ladder still observing the miracle ceiling. "And they had that book that Central Library didn't have..." He trailed off, plucking said book from the desk. "I don't even remember what page I was on..."

"Forty-seven. I marked it for you when you fell asleep."

"Oh..." He flipped it open to the bookmark. "Thanks, Al." Feeling bad that Al had to deal with his crankiness, he smiled sheepishly in apology.

Alphonse understood. Like he always did. "I'll go ask the librarian about reservations." Alphonse hurried over to the librarian's counter.

Edward pulled out his pocket watch and clicked it open. 11:46 a.m. He'd almost slept for 12 hours! It was no wonder he felt groggy. His eyes drifted to the crude engraving on the inside cover. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since he'd carved in that message. A lifetime and nothing to show for it. But he wasn't done. Not even close. _No, younger me, I won't ever forget. _He snapped the watch shut and replaced it in his pocket.

Alphonse returned, his steps dulled by the dirty brown carpet floor. "You can reserve, but there's a fee."

"Doesn't matter either way."

Alphonse suddenly stopped, looking at Ed pointedly. "Hey, what time is it?"

"Hm? Around 11:45."

"We're supposed to have that meeting with Colonel Mustang at noon, remember?"

He had completely forgotten. Dang, if only Alphonse had forgotten for a little longer! He sighed, lifting a hand to rub his neck. "I wonder if he'd notice if we just didn't show up..."

"Ed...," Alphonse scolded.

"Fine, fine. We can be there in twenty minutes if we run... but I'm not running." Edward smirked arrogantly, sauntering, rather slowly, towards the counter.

"But we'll be late!"

"So we're late! If Colonel Bastard can't handle it then he shouldn't have so many meetings."

Alphonse sighed in exasperation. "If he yells at you, it isn't my fault."

Edward locked his fingers behind his head. "Course not."

The librarian looked up at their arrival. Her glasses rested low on her nose, the brown rims perfectly matching the chocolate of her ponytailed hair. And the carpet. "Yes?"

"We wanna reserve that desk." Ed nodded back at their cluttered work area.

"There's a fee..."

Edward dug in his pocket and dropped several coins on the desk. "Here's a down payment. Anything else?"

She blinked at the generous pile of coins. "Yes, just sign your name." Her eyes never left the money as he scribbled his name on a clipboard she handed him.

Edward noted distastefully the greed in her eyes. "Don't spend it all in one place." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Let's go, Al."

A little bell on the door jingled as the door fell shut again. Edward held up his hand, wincing when the bright, midday light attacked his sensitive eyes. "I wonder why she didn't kick us out when they closed last night."

Alphonse walked steadily beside him, subtly trying to get his stubborn older brother to walk a little faster, but to no avail. "She said she would let us stay because she knew you were a State Alchemist. She seemed to like the military a lot."

"Hm... "

Thirty-three minutes later found The Fullmetal Alchemist kicking open the door to the office of one Colonel Roy Mustang. The Colonel didn't even look up from his intense pen-scribbling. "You're late, Fullmetal."

"Cry me a river." Feeling irritable and ready for this meeting to be over, Edward flopped on the couch and tried to force himself to fall asleep before Mustang started scolding him for whatever. Alphonse quietly closed the door and chose to hover next to it, embarrassed by his brother's worse-than-usual behavior.

"And in a bad mood, I see." Mustang opened a folder and placed a freshly-signed document within it. He set it off to the side and looked up, neatly folding his fingers in front of him. "Morning, Alphonse. Sorry, afternoon."

"Afternoon, Colonel." Alphonse replied politely.

"You know you can sit down."

"Oh... thank you. Standing doesn't really bother me, though..." He was more worried about the couch's welfare.

"Suit yourself. Now, Fullmetal, would you mind explaining to me exactly _why_ the people of Creston suddenly protested the administration and reception of their annual flu shots?"

A grin managed to sneak its way onto Edward's face before he wrestled it back under control. "Dunno what you mean," he deadpanned.

The Colonel didn't show any outward emotion, but internally he was rubbing his temples at the headache already forming. Today hadn't been the best for him, either. He'd left the kitchen window open the night before, and it had rained inside, a fact he discovered only after slipping in a puddle of water and smashing his knee on the hard floor. Not fifteen minutes later, as he walked down the sidewalk, a car splashed through another large puddle, drenching him entirely with muddy rainwater. Had his gloves not have been dripping wet, he just might've torched the car. Nothing, however, compared to the Mount Fuji of paperwork he found upon his final arrival to his office. He'd been working for hours and it was only half done. Mustang sighed, bringing his thoughts back to the conversation, however one-sided it might've been. "Fullmetal, being 'for the people' doesn't mean organizing a widespread temper tantrum."

"Hey," Edward sat up abruptly, suddenly eager to defend himself. "If I hadn't exposed those mad scientists and their hallucinogenic bioweapons, you might've had Creston _massacre_!"

"Alright, I get it." Mustang held a hand up to stop Edward's outburst. "Just... keep your voice down, if you don't mind." His head was really starting to ache. His pressed his fingers to his forehead in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain.

Edward leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms as he studied the Colonel. "Headache?"

"Mm."

"I could knock you out if you'd like."

"Ed!" Alphonse whispered in an urgent tone.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Fullmetal, but I don't think that would make me feel any better."

Edward shrugged and muttered. "It'd make me feel better." The dream had renewed in him the vigorous drive to continue their quest to get their bodies back. Right now, this meeting and whatever Mustang had for him to do was the only thing standing between them and a possible lead. Anxiety crept up on him like a serpent, penetrating deep within his conscious. He felt driven, but it wasn't the optimistic drive he usually possessed. He was abuzz with a type of nervous energy. Needing to _do_ something before he went mad, if not research, then something else. Unable to tolerate sitting anymore, he stood, crossing his arms again. "Look, can't we just cut to the point already? I got stuff to do."

"That so? Well, you're in luck, Fullmetal." Mustang picked up another folder, flipped it open. From it he took a file with an image on it. "I have more 'stuff' for you to do."

"Bastard." Edward swore the universe was out to get him, and Mustang was in league.

Roy turned the file around and slid it towards Ed. "Alphonse, I would like for you to be a part of this, too, if it's alright."

"Okay." Alphonse was eager to contribute. Despite Edward being the State Alchemist, where he went Alphonse went. He stepped up beside his brother and peered down at the file, his metal joints creaking as he bent over slightly.

Mustang leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingers together. "Recognize him?" The 'him' in question was a dark skinned man with jet black hair that fell to his shoulders in tangled waves. He looked to be in his mid-50's. A badly-healed scar ran from behind his ear, across his neck, over his stubbled cheek, and diagonally across his lips, ending near his other ear. His eyes swirled with a poisonous mixture of hatred and malice. He glared with the intent to kill from the slightly blurred photo a camera had been lucky enough to snap. One might wonder for the well being of the photographer.

"He looks friendly." Edward remarked sarcastically.

"Who is he?"

"I take it you haven't seen him before, then. I'm not surprised. We've tried to keep him out of the media as best as we can. He's that bad."

"Is that a good idea? I mean..." Alphonse shifted nervously. "Shouldn't the people know to look out for him?"

"Civilians aren't his M/O, nor is the spotlight. He likes military. We'd rather not cause the people to panic; that might drive him to kill a few just to make a point. As far as we know, he's killed 15 female officers and 44 male officers. Only two out of the total 59 were State Alchemists."

"That many!?" Alphonse cried in dismay. So many people dead at the whim of an insane man.

"That's why we're so desperate to get him. It's gotten ridiculous."

"Ridiculous started about sixty murders ago." Edward snapped. Mustang didn't comment, only watched with calculating eyes. Lost in thought, Edward didn't notice. "So he's probably not an Alchemist." At his slight annoyance, Ed's mind slipped into analytical mode of its own volition. At least now he was temporarily freed from Bastard banter. "And he prefers murdering men over women at almost a three to one ratio. Does he have any connection to any of the victims?"

Roy shrugged. "We don't know much about him, other than a possible first name, which we think to be Marx."

"He's insane."

Mustang fixed Ed with a hard look. "Maybe he just had a bad father." It wasn't a jest or intended to be hurtful. Instead, as his eyes bored into Edward's, he asked without words if the teenager could ever find it in himself to become such a man as the one they hunted. Could he understand Marx's position?

The oldest Elric held firm Roy's gaze, even as Alphonse looked back and forth between the two of them in slight confusion, and Ed searched himself, deeply, not for Mustang's sake but for his own. Was it possible? They say that within every person lies the potential for violence, that nudges in all the wrong places could make anyone go mad with bloodlust. There were times when he felt almost inclined to believe it. Times when Scar's cursed hand would fell another life to a bloody corpse, or times when people like Shou Tucker were unable to see the blood on their hands but for their prideful hunger for power, for fame. After so much exposure to the evil of humanity, Edward would believe that mankind was animal inside. Then a blonde mechanic would come to mind, or a twin-braided four-year-old, or a pigtailed three-year-old, or his own little brother, within whom he could find not a drop of bloodlust. After recalling the pure innocence that dwelt within each of these (aside from maybe Winry's wrench), Edward no longer believed in absolute inclination towards violence. Which is why he held so much faith in himself.

He dug deep and returned, confident in what he found. A slight shake of his head told Mustang all he needed. He would never become that man. Not ever.

Satisfied, Mustang returned the nod and resumed the briefing like nothing had happened. _Damn Colonel. Always trying to lecture me. What was even the point of that?_

Had Alphonse possessed eyelids and a mouth, he would've been blinking as he gaped. To this day he had yet to discover how the Colonel and Ed communicated without saying anything, particularly when they appeared to despise each other so much. A shared glance with Edward told Alphonse that Ed would tell him about it later. Al reconsidered and supposed there wasn't such a trick to it.

Mustang tapped the photo with one finger. "Marx doesn't seem to have any fighting skills. A run-in with a Lieutenant almost had him caught, but he slipped away. All of his victims are killed by deadly accurate sniper shot. Same caliber, same entry wound. He's a master of evasion and avoiding detection. He shows up, eliminates his seemingly random target, and vanishes." Mustang leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "And that about sums up our knowledge of him. Any questions?"

"Yeah, several." Edward planted his palms on the desk and leaned forward over the picture. His eyes remained on Mustang. "Where did the murders take place?"

"All of them here in Central."

"Have you documented the time and place of each one?"

"Of course." Mustang leaned over and pulled out a drawer. From it he removed a large piece of paper that had been folded several times. He unfolded it and spread it out, smoothing the wrinkles. It took up the entire span of the desk. Mustang stood and leaned over the desk similarly to Edward, because large maps were meant to be leant over. A series of red marks dotted the map haphazardly, 59 in total. Beside each mark was a date and a name. "Several have studied this- are still studying it. No patterns, alchemic or otherwise."

Edward's eyes darted from dot to dot, and his left fingers crept up to curl around his mouth. "Hm... Where was the first?"

Mustang pointed to a mark. "And the second." He pointed to several in order, all random.

For twenty-five minutes then went over the map, and nothing had revealed itself. Edward's eyes were beginning to blur from straining them for so long. He was starting to see cats and dogs in the dots. A sudden loud knock on the door startled them all out of their concentration. Edward stepped back and stretched, grateful for the break.

"Come in." Mustang didn't take his eyes off the map until Hawkeye poked her head in.

"Sir, you have a meeting with General Dixon and Colonel Bedford in 10 minutes."

"Is it that late already?" Roy took out his pocket watch and clicked it open. "Hm. Sorry, Fullmetal, Alphonse. We'll have to finish this later. You can take the map with you. I have several copies."

Edward sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Right." He began gathering it up.

Mustang patted his pockets, making sure he had everything he thought he would need. Pocket watch, spark gloves, matches (just in case), a memo from the General, notebook and pen, sidearm... "Alright." He nodded at Hawkeye, who stood waiting patiently by the door. "Let's go." He moved in her direction. Edward and Alphonse followed along behind.

_Phewt!_

Mustang paused. That sound. He knew it.

Edward knew it, too, but his brain was moving slower than the war veteran's.

Alphonse could also place it. It took half a split second, but he'd heard it enough to place it fairly quickly.

Hawkeye had recognized it better than any of them and was speaking immediately.

"Sniper!"

"Get down!" Moving on autopilot, Mustang pitched forward, flattening himself as quick as his body would allow. He found his face hovering _very_ closely to Hawkeye's, and he backed up a smidgeon, her doing the same. But there was no time to blush, not that he would've. He shimmied his body around to check on the Elrics. Alphonse crouched in front of Mustang's desk, but- "Fullmetal! Idiot, get down! Do you wanna get-?" _'Shot'_ caught in his throat. The color drained from his face, his world freezing, and a look of shock appeared to match Edward's perfectly.

Alphonse hadn't yet noticed the growing stain that blended so well with the crimson of Edward's coat. He did notice that his older brother was still standing in the middle of a sniper's line of fire, and took ahold of Ed's jacket, pulling him to the floor. Edward flopped on his stomach, arms and legs splayed, and didn't move.

_No._ Mustang frantically clawed over to Edward's side and immediately placed his fingers to Ed's flesh wrist. Hawkeye had scrambled over to the window with her sidearm drawn, sharp eyes trying to pinpoint where the shot had come from.

"Fullmetal!" There was a pulse. It was fast and wild. "Hey!" Taking Edward's shoulder and the soft fabric of his coat in his fingers, Roy rolled Edward onto his back. "Talk to me!" Edward's eyes stared eerily, wide open and unblinking at the ceiling, seeing nothing. He had yet to move.

Across from Mustang, Alphonse stared at the hole in his older brother's chest. His mind went completely blank, leaving only the sheer horror in its wake. "Brother?"

Mustang pressed his hands over the bleeding exit wound in Ed's chest. He didn't care that he wasn't flat on the ground. The desk was blocking them, and most snipers wouldn't stick around to take a second shot anyway. Not the smart ones, which Marx definitely was. Hawkeye had cracked the office door and was ordering men to search for the sniper in his stead. He'd have to thank her later. Not now.

There was still the entry wound on Edward's back, but the exit wound in his chest was two times larger and took priority. "Fullmetal!" Blood continued to pour through Roy's fingers, and he pressed down harder. "Talk to me, dammit!" No response. Roy reached over and slapped Ed across the face, leaving a bloody, hand-shaped smear on Ed's cheek. Alphonse jumped at the treatment. The shock worked for both Elrics.

Stunned, Edward gasped, blinking several times. He looked at Alphonse, then at Mustang, who was talking to him. He had to focus hard to comprehend what he was saying.

"-ay awake! You hear me, Fullmetal? You have to stay awake!"

Edward felt Alphonse clutching his shoulder like he was afraid of something. Like something was wrong. Was something wrong? Well, he _was_ laying on the floor, and Mustang _was_ yelling at him. Well, that was normal. He felt a pressure on his chest. Something heavy was crushing him. He glanced down and found Mustang's hands over his heart. They were red. Shocked, Edward opened his mouth to speak, but found that he needed air more. Did he forget to breathe? He choked on his next breath, coughing up a metallic tasting wetness. It spilled out his mouth and dripped down his cheek and neck. He didn't feel anything, so where was the blood coming from? And why was he so tired? His eyes began to droop.

Mustang wasn't having it. "He's bleeding out. Alphonse, you might want to look away. I'm sorry, but I have to do it." Removing his hands, he tore open Edward's black shirt and the tank top beneath it, laying bare the horrible wound and skin slick with blood. Not wasting time to don his gloves, he pulled the pack of matches from his pocket. Struck one.

Pain that Edward hadn't been feeling before suddenly rose to intolerable levels. He felt like he was being cooked alive. His chest was on fire, first icy cold, then raging with an inferno that would've melted your eyes to merely look upon. Edward wasn't aware of what his body was currently doing, but he was pretty sure it wasn't laying still. He didn't know that he was screaming until he ran out of breath and was forced to stop, leaving his throat raw and scratchy. The pain lessened ever so slightly, but it still hurt more than anything he could remember. Though they do say you can't remember pain experienced in the past. What crap.

Mustang cut off the flame and bent over the struggling teenager, trying to hold him down. Edward ran out of breath to scream and fisted his fingers in Mustang's jacket, gasping wetly for air that he couldn't get enough of. Marring Edward's chest was a horrid burn, but at least the bleeding had stopped. Roy was aware that he still needed to do the entry wound in Edward's back, and he moved to roll Ed onto his side.

"Alphonse..."

Mustang stopped, frozen by the weakness of the young alchemist's voice. Ed's skin was losing its color, and his eyes grew dim. He knew... and he hated, absolutely loathed himself for it, but he knew... there was no need to burn him any further.

Edward's grip on Mustang loosened, and his left hand fell to the floor. "Alphonse." He coughed, eyes swiveling sluggishly to fix on his little brother.

Alphonse, on the verge of panic, and about ready to smash his own blood seal to trade his soul for his brother, grabbed ahold of Edward's hand. "What, Brother?" If it were possible, Mustang heard tears in the younger Elric's ringing voice.

"Alphonse, don't..." Edward grimaced, squeezing Alphonse's hand with as much strength as his fingers possessed, not really in control of his muscles, but sure he would've been doing the exact same if he had been.

"Don't what?" _Try to b__ring you back?_

Edward's breathing was growing harsher. He was struggling to keep his eyes open. "Don't... give up..."

Alphonse choked. A bubbling mass of emotion rose to the surface and spilled over. "No, Brother! Don't you dare leave me! Don't you _dare!" _He held Edward's hand tighter, reaching with his other hand to lay on Ed's cheek. "We have so much left to do! We're not done!"

"Al..." Edward's hands lost their strength. His grip on Mustang's coat with his right hand released, the automail thudding on the floor. The light died from his eyes, and his chest stilled, a final breath leaving his lips.

The pain that flooded Mustang was so pronounced, so potent he thought he was going to drown in it. An icy hand of sorrow and despair clutch his heart and squeezed, threatening to crush him. He had known that he cared for Edward, for both of the Elrics. It didn't show often, nor did he pay attention to it himself. He never realized just how much he cared until that moment. His heart had broken so many times, he thought it couldn't be broken again, but it ruptured when the soft call of the younger boy reached his ears.

"Brother?" Alphonse gripped his older brother's torn and stained shirt. "Ed?!" He scooped Edward's lifeless body into his arms, cradling him to his chest that hurt so badly despite its hollowness. It was over for him. Life was nothing without his brother. His brother was gone. Gone! It was _over! _"Brother! You _can't_ leave me! _BROTHER!"_ He couldn't cry, couldn't sob until the point of exhaustion where he was too tired to even feel pain. No, he could only kneel there, holding his brother, and feel every bit of it.

Edward knew the exact moment when his heart stopped. He couldn't move, couldn't even suck in a breath. His eyes were forever locked on the face of his younger brother's armored helmet. He couldn't bear to hear the hopelessness in Alphonse's voice. It hurt worse than 1,000 deaths. The very last thing he felt was being held in his little brothers arms, then he slipped away...

~3~1~4~

The end.

...

Hehe! Just kidding.

~3~1~4~

He was running. Over a field of soft grass where bright sunshine touched every corner of the world before him. White, fluffy clouds drifted in a lazy swim through the blue ocean of beautiful sky.

Edward turned his head and yelled behind him at his flesh-and-blood brother, Alphonse, finally made whole. Their mother was calling them. Winry waved from the balcony, her blond hair blowing in the cool breeze. Alphonse caught up to him and threw his arm around Edward's shoulders.

"Tag!" Alphonse was positively beaming.

"About time you caught me." Ed ruffled his younger brother's light brown hair. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to slow down _even more_-"

Laughing, Alphonse grabbed Ed in a headlock. "Yeah, who's slow?"

With an evil smirk, Edward dug his fingers into Alphonse's exposed armpits. Alphonse giggled and released Ed immediately. Edward furthered the attack, moving down to tickle the life out of Al's sides. His younger brother, completely defenseless against the onslaught, fell to the ground, unable to do a thing.

"Ed!" Al managed to choke out between laughs.

"Yeah? What were you saying about slow earlier?" Grinning like a madman, Ed refused to let up.

"Ed!" Strange... it didn't look like Al's mouth had moved just now.

"Ed!" It _hadn't_ moved. What... ?

"Brother!" He was being shook.

"Wah!" Edward bolted upright, clutching Alphonse's metal arms for dear life. He was panting heavily. Wait... what? Déjà vu hit him like a tidal wave.

"Ed!"

Edward felt something being pulled gently from his face and found himself crushed within his little brother's hard embrace. The cool metal felt good against his clammy skin. He suddenly had a flash of another time Alphonse hugged him so desperately. That time, Edward hadn't been able to move to hug him back. Why? Edward flinched when the memory hit him full on. He'd been shot, he'd been dying! He gripped Alphonse's arms, pushing back to look at him, eyes wide and a question on his lips.

"Al! What-?"

"You're not dead, Brother. You're not dead!" Al's voice carried panic, confusion, relief and joy. So much joy. Edward realized that Al was shaking; his armor tinkled quietly and his fingers clutched Ed's jacket with no sign of letting go.

"Hey..." Edward smiled as comfortingly as he could, shoving his own concerned confusion aside for the time being. "It's okay. I'm right here."

"What happened, Brother? You.. you di-, you die..." Alphonse shuddered and decided to skip that part. "It was awful, brother! After you... afterwards they caught the guy who kill... killed you. Marx. They had people in the area. But!" Alphonse gripped Edward's arms with renewed vigor. "But what happened? You were gone and there was a funeral and..."

"A funeral, really? That was fast. Was it nice?"

"Ed..."

"Okay, okay, right. Sorry. Let me think. We both seem to remember it the same way, the only difference is that I... was out of the picture for most of it. So that rules out any hallucinogenic drug. Plus, I don't think you even could be drugged..."

Alphonse shrugged, for the moment content to let Ed do the talking and thinking and instead focus on the fact that his brother was _alive_. Alive, breathing, and not bleeding from a sniper's bullet. Just holding him and looking at him filled Alphonse with relief.

"When did it end?"

"What?"

"The day... or episode, or hallucination, or whatever. When was it reset?"

"Um... I'm not sure." Not like he had really cared what time it was. "It was probably around midnight. Yeah, because that's when Col. Mustang was done prosecuting that guy and invited me to stay with him that night."

"He..." Ed blinked. "He did?" That struck him as uncharacteristically sentimental of the bastard colonel. But then, he _had _just died...

"Yeah. I was a little surprised."

"Yeah..." Something clicked into place. "No, wait! You said midnight! What happened after that?"

"Well... Colonel Mustang was taking me to his car... and suddenly, I was back here again. Just like yesterday morning."

"Just like _yesterday_..." No, that wasn't possible. It had to be something else. Noon to midnight. Twelve hours.

_Thud..._

Edward blanched and Alphonse gasped. Slowly, Edward leaned over to peer around Alphonse, and Alphonse turned his head to see behind him. Both pairs of eyes were fixed on one lone repairman atop a ladder.

_Thud thud..._

~3~1~4~

_To be continued..._


End file.
